A Strike With Fate
by EchoFallsFromGrace
Summary: Rizzoli and Isles/Game of Thrones AU. A Dothraki by the name of Jehane has been sent by her Khaleesi to King's Landing for negotiations. The city is full of smog, liars, and deceit, and the Lannisters are roaring loudly against her. But not all the lions are out to eat her. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**If you do not know the characters of GoT, you'll still enjoy the story, don't worry! Rated T for language and knives in the back.**

**My lovely friend ImperfectionIsUnderratedHBC asked for this story, and agreed to be my Beta, so thank her for this jewel. **

**Daily words of wisdom: **

**Jehane: Jane**

**Fransisko: Frankie**

The mouth of Blackwater Bay opened up before her, the grand towers of the Red Keep enshrouded in the tendrils of the early morning fog, and the brisk wind shivering through the sails. Hers was not the only ship upon the water, the fish merchants plagued the sea along with her, their nets reaching down into the brown tide. Far in the distance, gold armor glinted in the sunlight upon the walls of the city. So many people, so many smells.

Jehane watched with fascination from the bow. The Dothraki Sea had left way for Meereen, for Pentos, and each port and each city had been grander than the last, but she had never expected the grandest of all to be before her. What used to be tall grasses that grew around her and above her were soon to be replaced with bustling city streets, more people than she could ever count, kings and queens among them.

The weight of the wood beneath her feet shifted, and she turned to face the Pentoshi by her side.

"Amazing, isn't she?" He sighed into the wind. "Each structure grander than the last. Built ages upon ages and still standing."

"I thought I had seen it all, Captain." Jehane admitted. "I was wrong." She gazed into his face, watching his eyes flicker from wall to garrison to each gate. His snow white beard glinted in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the blue of his hair and the red of his tunic. "Captain-"

The old man held up his hand and stopped her. "I've told you before. It is not captain, it is not sir, it is not and never was lord." He shook his head amused. "It is simply Korsak."

"Korsak, then." Jehane passed a hand through her unruly black curls. "Do they know of my arrival?"

"Sir Jorah sent a raven before you left Meereen, the court awaits your arrival. And in any case, the city knows the sails of my faithful Jo Friday. They'll know, don't worry."

The morning passed easily, giving in to gray clouds and rain as Jehane watched the captain's men unload their ship. Her eyes did not sit still however, and neither did her body. She moved fitfully between crates, pacing back and forth as the minutes and hours ticked on. On the outside, she looked impatient, but on the inside, the butterflies gnawed at say she was anxious was undermining her current feelings on the situation.

Jehane had never been anxious in her life. She had faced blood thirsty killers and droughts that lasted for entire summers and she had even met a queen and her gold crowned brother. But never had she met a king as fearsome as Robert Baratheon. The legends of his feats had traveled across the Narrow Sea to many parts of Essos. This great antlered beast, this slaughterer of dragons, a man as tall as a mountain and as wide as a river. Only his hunger for flesh matched his thirst, or so they said. What could a Dothraki do to such a man? Sir Jorah had reassured her, or had tried to, but it was too late. She had seen the look of uneasiness pass over her Khaleesi's face as she had boarded the ship.

She straightened herself to her full height, and scowled. A king wouldn't, couldn't, scare her. Others never had, why would the rumor of an old warrior? She was a Dothraki rider to the greatest Khalasar, a servant to the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt One.

Korsak's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Come, Jehane. Our convoy is waiting by the Mud gate."

She gazed over at him, her old bravado suddenly coursing through her veins, and nodded.

R&I&Got&R&I&GoT

"And am I supposed to care?" The blond boy sighed, resting his chin in his hands. The Iron Throne glittered onyx underneath and behind him, clashing with his red and gold cloak. His cold, jade green eyes glared into the young black man's at the bottom of the steps, a rictus on his lips.

"Well, I-"

The salt and pepper man by the boy's side spoke up, a slight smirk hidden in his beard. "We are in a war, sir-?"

"Barrold. Barrold Frost."

"We are in a war, Sir Barrold. You are not the first Braavosi to come and demand the Iron Bank's money, and you are not the first who will leave empty-handed."

"With all respect, Lord Baelish-"

"With all respect, Sir Barrold." Baelish snapped. "The War in the North is draining our resources enough as it is. Do not expect the money you have loaned us back so quickly. We have another year on the contract. Come back then."

"Yes. Do come back then." The blond boy added, smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Sir Barrold. Good day." He stood from his throne and took his way to the door, followed by his small council. Short and tall and female. The crowd around the young Braavosi bowed low, some their noses to the floor, and the royal court left the throne room.

Barrold swore underneath his breath. He felt movement behind him, and turned to face an approaching knight, a grin on the boy's lips, a spring in his step.

"Well done. You're actually quite lucky he was in a good mood when you started to speak. It's the ones who were supposed to go after you he's going to be _really_ angry at. I'm Fransisko, son of Fransisko. House Rizzoli of Dorne. Goldcloak by association."

The Braavosi shook the knight's outstretched hand. "House Rizzoli. I would have guessed by your coat of arms. Barrold Frost, Iron Bank of Braavos."

The black haired man glanced down at his armor, white horses on dark green threads. "Yes, I guess you would have. Are you staying long?"

"I have no home in the Seven Kingdoms." Barrold shook his head. "I'll be heading back on the first ship. But I'm sure we'll see each other again in a year."

"No, you won't. I'll probably be dead." Fransisko laughed. "I'm being shipped off to the North. So come on, let's get a drink."

"Aren't you on duty?"

"Only when the king is in the throne room."

Barrold made a move to join him, but held back, his honey brown eyes shifting to the door the king had left through. He bit his lower lip. Fransisko watched him avidly, his own gaze following the Braavosi's, and he frowned.

"Don't try and follow him. The last one who did so lost his toes."

"I need that money back, Rizzoli. I need to see him."

"Maybe you will, he's got an audience with a Dothraki rider later this afternoon. You can try then." The knight took the banker by the elbow and moved effortlessly through the throng of lords and ladies towards the door. Barrold's eyes were wide.

"A Dothraki? A real one?"

"Yes."

"As in, long hair and tinkling bells and a giant horse?"

"Well, I don't know if the horse came with him." Fransisko laughed. "Why do you need that money so badly anyway?"

Frost scowled. "Let's be honest, Rizzoli. Even if the crown does win this war against the North, the Seven Kingdoms will be in a greater depression than it already is at the moment. The Bank will never get its money if we don't get it now. Tomorrow might be too late."

"You don't think we'll win?" Fransisko asked, genuinely surprised. "They're just a few thousand, we have armies three times their size. We have the greatest military minds in the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin Lannister as our general. How would we lose?"

"Spoken like a soldier." Barrold shook his head. "It's a different tale altogether from a banker's point of view."

Fransisko shrugged. "Why are you a banker anyway? It sounds boring."

"My father was a banker. Why are you a knight?"

"Touché." The Dornish man grinned.

R&I&Got&R&I&GoT

Jehane had thought the Fishmarket was crowded earlier, but the streets of Fishmonger's Square were now almost impossible to maneuver. Korsak kept fading in and out of her sight and sellers kept accosting her, making it hard for her to get to anywhere. The Red Keep loomed over her and blocked the sparse sunlight, but every step she took forward, it seemed that the structure shrank back.

Finally, the Pentoshi turned around, the guards by his side doing the same, and waited for her. Jehane knew, in a way, they were watching to see if she would break in this environment. If her morale shattered, suddenly her Khaleesi would suddenly seem much less powerful in their eyes.

She threw them a defiant smirk and walked slowly to them, hands in her pants's pocket. "I'm sorry, I've just never seen so much fish." She shrugged. Korsak nodded, and walked by her side through the crowded streets.

"Remember, address His Highness with the highest regard, like you would your Khaleesi. Do not turn your back to him, whatever happens. And try to ignore the small council, it's the king you need to get your message to."

They were very suddenly upon Aegon's High Hill and in its small twisted alleys, the first gate to the Red Keep visible, the sun high in the sky. The portcullis opened and they walked into the shadows, Goldcloaks on either side of them, monitoring them with their eyes.

"Captain Korsak of the Jo Friday, with the Dothraki envoy to see His Highness."

Jehane's gaze fell forward.

"He is awaiting in the Throne Room."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank my lovely beta! **

The sunlight filtering through the crystal stained windows cast the throne room in an uneasy red glow, and the boy underneath in a mischievous glare. The throne was much too big, too dark for him. On the lower step, by his side, sat six others, young and old, male and female. Two had smirks on their face, one a disdainful glare. Another yawned. The ones who did seem interested stood by the columns in clumps of three or four, whispering amongst themselves, all eyes on the oaken doors, their loyalty displayed with colors on their chests.

Jehane's eyes were set on the blond boy. He looked tall, but was somewhat lanky, with skinny wrists and knobbly knees beneath his breeches. He didn't look incredibly impressive, but it was his eyes, and only his eyes that unnerved Jehane. Cold and thirsty. Wanting something.

"Is that King Robert?" She asked quietly, tugging at Korsak's elbow. The old man shook his head, visibly shaken and slightly embarassed.

"No. That's his oldest son." He whispered back, his head barely turning. He fiddled with his sword handle awkwardly. He took a few steps forward, urging Jehane to stand by his side, and not beside him. "Chin up, girl."

He took heavy steps down the marble tiles and to the bottom of the steps, and kneeled. Jehane followed him boldly, taking a knee to the right of him, fighting the urge to look up into the boy's face.

"Lord Joffrey, it is an honor to meet you again." Korsak's voiced echoed throughout the hall.

"It is King now, Korsak." The oldest man rumbled. His fingers stroked his long beard as he slowly blinked. "King Joffrey."

The Jo Friday's captain glanced up, alarmed. "King Robert-"

"My husband passed away while you were on your voyage, if you had come earlier as you had predicted, you might have been able to attend his funeral." The lady besides him spoke up, her dark timber filling the room. She grimaced slightly, her eyes half closing as she gazed down at the floor, her blonde hair covering her face. "My son is now king."

"I'm-I'm sorry to hear so, my queen. Autumn storms blocked our path." Korsak bowed his head. "But with the realm in your son's hands, I am sure it can only prosper. Long live King Joffrey."

"Get on with it, Korsak." The blond boy snapped. "I don't have all day." He sat up properly. "Where's this Dothraki you've been promising us?"  
Korsak shared a pained look with Jehane and rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her. "Here she is, your highness." He stood a little taller. "Jehane, Dothraki envoy to her Khaleesi, Daenerys Targaryen. She masters our tongue."

Joffrey scowled, his green eyes glancing between Korsak to Jehane. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He took a deep breath, and smiled tightly. "That's a woman, Korsak." Beneath him, the queen looked away, her grip on her crimson dress tightening. The king laughed coldly. "Come on, old man. Where is he?"

Korsak squirmed. "This is she, my lord. Personally chosen by the Khaleesi herself."

"Then this Khaleesi is a fool." Joffrey sprawled back into his throne. "I will not talk to a woman about matters of the realm. Find someone else."

"Perhaps-" The queen interjected. "-perhaps you should let your council take care of this, Joffrey." She gave him a forced smile. "She travelled far, you shouldn't send her away so easily."

The boy waved his hand. "Do with the Dothraki what you wish, mother, but I will not speak with her." He stood up, seemingly satisfied with himself. Jehane had had enough. She took a few menacing steps towards him, ignoring the sudden whispers and gasps. Korsak grabbed her by the hand.

"Jehane, don't!" He hissed. She turned to him, anger in her brown eyes, but decided to step back down. The frightened king's face regained composure slightly, and he smirked down at her.

"At least the horses taught you to obey." He took a few steps forward to gaze up into Jehane's eyes. "Make sure you don't forget who you're talking to." He turned to Korsak. "This was a waste of your time, and of Jo Friday's resources." He announced loudly for the court to hear. "Next time you come to me, I hope it won't be with a disappointment." He looked the man up and down, and smiled, teeth showing.

The king took his leave. The court's eyes followed him through the archway, then snapped back to Jehane and Korsak, avidly awaiting the next move. The queen stood, her fingers smoothing her dress delicately, she sighed inwardly as her green eyes swept the room.  
"Hand, take care of this." She too, left, followed by the rest of the small council. All except the dwarf hidden in the shadows, sitting farthest from the throne.

His lips were shut tight, his jaw locked. His eyes kept shifting between Jehane and the crowd. He seemed somewhat embarrassed. "What my nephew meant to say," He cleared his throat. "Is that you're invited to the feast tonight. We planned it for your arrival. I trust you enjoy roasted boar?"

The Dothraki stared down at him. "I've never tried it."

"It's my sister's favorite." The dwarf said casually. "No doubt she's trying to win you over with food." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Can we expect you there?"

Jehane glanced back at Korsak, who met her gaze straight on. "Yes. We'll be there."

The blond dwarf smiled. "Good."

** Here you go folks, chapter 2!**  
** For those of you who read and/or watch Game of Thrones, this is set after Ned's death, whilst Tyrion is still Hand of the King, but before he sends away Janos Slynt to the Wall and Pycelle packing. (Saddly, this means you won't see any of Jaime because he's imprisoned at Riverrun. This makes me upset, but I wanted Tyrion at court. Also, if you've read the 5th book, please weep with me about Jaime and Cersei. Thank you.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Please forgive me for the lateness of this update! My beta and I both have school and my e-mails are screwing up do to updates, so I'm never really sure if things sent or not. **

**Wise words of the day: Never pick your nose, even if you think you won't be seen. Because you will. By me as I'm coming home from school.**

Jehane had decided on a simple leather outfit, much like one she would wear to a dinner in her Khaleesi's honor, and Jo Friday's captain, Korsak, had given her a beautiful beige cloak from his own stock to drape over her shoulders. Her arakhs hung low on her hips, gleaming silver in the filtered sunlight, a gift of her father's.

The rooms she'd been led to by the wordless giant were far too big for her lone self, and yet much too small. She was used to sleeping under the stars. Above her was only stone. Red tainted bricks adorned with tapestries of lions and stags and dying dragons.

She crossed to the window and opened the curtains to gaze at the dying sun falling behind Baelor's Sept. She wondered if here, in Westeros, the Horse Lords had followed her across the sky, their manes on fire and their hooves leaving stars in their wake. Perhaps the Seven had allowed her ancestors a seat beside them. Perhaps they sat amongst each other, celebrating their meeting, envious to see her first feast in the Keep, her first feast on these shores.

She seriously doubted it.

Music wafted up to her window inside the wind. It was slightly out of tune, a bit confused, the band was obviously rehearsing. She rubbed her scarred palms out of habit, an old wound from an old, ruthless Khal that the blond king irritatingly reminded her of. It was his eyes that did it. Cold and heartless and happy, deliriously happy, to bring pain into another's world. The Mother of Dragons had delivered her from him, had been her savior. A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts.

"Lady Jehane, they are awaiting you downstairs."

The music became louder as she followed the torches down the stairs, the cries of laughter echoing on the tiles. She could hear hooves and barking, and she didn't quite know what to make of that.

Three long tables had been shaped into a U, each with enough food to feed a small battallion and candles to light the darkest of nights. Banners had been strewn up in colors of gold and black and red with dancing lions and frolicking deer. The noise was enough to deafen anyone within reasonable earshot, but as Jehane stepped through the oaken doors, the crowds turned and paused. The dogs and pigs skidded to a halt, the armored dwarves on them pulling on their reigns.

She displayed her signature smirk and strode in, fingers hooked into the belt at her waist. A man took place beside her, coat displaying black and golden colors, and rapped his staff on the marble tiles once, twice.

"Jehane, ambassador to Khaleesi Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

"Unburnt Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and queen of the Andals and the First Men." Jehane finished off.

Every single head whipped to stare at the Lannister dowager queen, her body tightly fit into a crimson gown, her hair up and ringlets falling across her cheeks, her green eyes blazing with unspoken fury. They awaited her words, hanging on to her very breath with anticipation.

Quite suddenly, a small smile ghosted across her lips, and it almost reached her eyes as she took in Jehane. "You are welcome in our hall, Lady Jehane. The King and I, and the entire court, hope you enjoy the festivities and your first night in Westeros." She waved a hand at her son, his crown sitting low on his brow, blonde hair shaggy and leg thrown over the side of his chair, lazily swinging back and forth. Next to him, Myrcella and Tommen Baratheons' eyes shone brightly, blinking rapidly in the dim light of the candles.

"And I thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness." Jehane bowed low, holding her cloak back behind her. If the king had heard her banter, he showed no sign of it. Or he didn't care. She walked across the floor, boots clacking, and took the seat pulled out for her across from the queen, her back to the double doors. The seven pointed star of the New Gods glared down at her from the high wall, and she chose to ignore it as best as she could.

"You dress quite more...eloquently than we all thought you would. Especially for a Dothraki." Cersei said quietly for only them to hear, her brow raising delicately.

"I try." Jehane drawled back.

"I find your style interesting." The queen continued. "A woman rarely dresses as a man in the Seven Kingdoms."

"It's easier to walk around in trousers than in a corset when one does business."

The Lannister's face darknened, and she bit out an agreeing "Yes". Jehane licked her lips, knowing she'd gone slightly too far, and she instead found interest in the roasted boar before her. Its meat was slightly pink, its skin dark brown and cripsy in her mouth, color added in the plate through various vegetables and sauces. It was certainly different than what she was used to, but enjoyable enough.

The chair next to her pulled out, and she turned to acknowledge the Hand's arrival. Tyrion Lannister sat down comfortably into the red cushions, reaching almost immideatly for the goblet of wine across from his plate.

"Drinking already, uncle?" Joffrey asked, a devious smile on his lips. "Do you think you'll last the night?" Next to him, Cersei took a long, deep breath.

"I'm hoping I won't, dear nephew, if I am to be in your company the entire evening."

The king's expression soured and he made to stand, but his mother's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"If it weren't for grandfather being at war, you wouldn't be here, imp." Joffrey spit.

Cersei reached for the wine.

Tyrion snorted. "Do you think I like being here? Battle suits me better, as it turns out."

"Where is your lapdog, anyway?" The king asked. "Bronn."

"You mean your captain of the guard?"

Joffrey sat up abruptly. "Mother."

"It was decided during yesterday's Small Council." Cersei quietly responded, eyes cast down, knuckles white around her cup. "You were out practicing your aim." The green eyed king opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it. Jehane was watching intently. The golden haired dwarf took a deep breath, and turned to the Dothraki.

"How was the sail?"

"Terribly moving." Jehane answered, a smile on her lips. "The autumn storms held us back for a few days before letting up."

"Winter is coming, as they say." He said softly.

"You're lucky you didn't sink." Joffrey muttered.

The queen sighed, her eyes looking up to the ceiling and closing as she took a breath, as if asking for the gods for help on this night. The chair next to hers scraped out, and she glanced over. "Cousin. How nice of you to join us at the head table tonight." Jehane followed their gazes, and she paused.

The blonde's eyes were a golden hazel, and the Dothraki found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the vision before her, warm brown pooling into sea greens, as if lava had met ocean, the two colliding in the spaces of her eyes like stars exploding into a dazzling sunset. There was no single word to describe the intensity of her gaze or the sharpness of the light reflecting in those orbs. There was no single word for the breathless moment it gave Jehane, for the way her heart seemed to beat louder, yet act as if it had ceased completely. Time halted for a split second, sending it into a downward spiral of countless hours, dawns and dusks, the sun stunningly brighter every time it rose for her. Her mind screamed for her to breathe, but her heart did not want to break the fragile bubble around her that drowned out every sound, the deafening noise turned to careless whispers in her ears, the characters around her turning to mere shadows, unable to compete with the blonde's aura, the food sitting in her stomach turning to ashes, tasteless in comparison.  
"I'm not staying, just saying good night." The blonde smiled, broke gaze with Jehane, and turned away.

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


End file.
